Numbness and the Tomato Mafia
by yeet333
Summary: Feliciano and Lovino are brothers. To anyone else, even each other, they are perfectly normal. Wolf is the pseudonym of a famed, anonymous detective known for his sly ways of gaining evidence. Fedora is the leader of the most powerful mafia in Apulia. What happens when 'Wolf' is hired to take down 'Fedora? Don't ask me, 'cause I don't know!


~(*-*)~ So... HI! I know what you're all thinking, what am I doing with a new story when I haven't updated Superhero in I don't even know how long? The answer is this: I have the next chapter all ready. I have the next _three_ chapters done, but they're currently in my notebook, which is at my Dad's. Which is kind of my fault, but whatever. Anyways, this chapter exists because of SilverTarot, who you should go check out. I don't own Hetalia or Linkin Park. ~(*-*)~

"I've become so Numb, I can't feel you there! Become so tired, so much more aware! By becoming this all I want to do, is be more like me and be less like you!"

The American music blared into Lovino's earplugs as he scrubbed away at the dishes. Or rather, he furiously pounded away at them, turning his anger onto the innocent tableware.

Lately, this song by Linkin Park was pretty much his life story and motto rolled up into one. He wasn't a generally happy person overall, (except to tourists and pretty girls) but this past week had really pushed him over the edge.

On Sunday, a petty pick-pocket had stolen his wallet at the market, but no one helped! By the time he had found it again, it was barren of anything, even that photo of him and his brother from the last Christmas!

On Monday, someone else at the cafe mistook him for his _fratello_ \- they didn't look that alike! Well, needless to say, Lovino quickly set him straight, and some.

Tuesday he got fired from his job. It wasn't even his fault that that stupid kid had knocked over the gumball machine, even if it did smash the security monitor as well in the process!

Wednesday, Lovino got kicked out of the bakery- and for trying to break up a fight! But NO, the owner didn't listen AT ALL, only assuming he had been part of the problem!

On Thursday, he actually woke up in a relatively good mood only to find that his _idiota fratello_ , Feliciano, had snuck out of the house again to visit that stupid friend of his, who just happened to be the brother of the person who broke his heart. His twin was just too innocent for his own good.

On Friday Lovino's precious tomatoes were ravaged by those blasted caterpillars, and today, Saturday, Feliciano was still not home and as if to emphasize his sour mood, it was thundering outside.

Lovino finished and walked to the front door, gingerly slipping on his boots and raincoat. He grabbed his umbrella and the bouquet of multicolored roses he'd set up earlier. It was time for his weekly visit with his parents, an event he hadn't skipped since he started, 15 years ago. He was only six years old then.

He trudged through the rain to where his parents slept peacefully, six feet underfoot. Lovino gently placed the already drooping flowers gently in-between the grave markers of Daisy and Marco Vargas.

'She left twin keys to Paradise, and He the lock to reseal it.' Was what the headstone read.

Lovino knew the first part was about him and Feliciano, and the last bit about Romeo, who was their half-brother. His father and another woman had had spiked punch at a party, and, well, one thing lead to another. The woman didn't want the baby, and left it to the Vargas's to take care of and raise for only four years, right up until the night of the accident.

Romeo was almost nineteen now. Lovino and Feliciano were twenty-one. Romeo was on a ship, taking a college course that would hopefully land him a spot in the crew of a passenger ship. Lovino _used_ to work in a hardware store, and Feliciano never stayed in one job for more than a month. He didn't get fired. No, everyone loved him and his hard-working attitude. He simply got bored often. It was hard for Lovino to keep track of him, but he was pretty sure his job was currently that of an ice-cream truck driver.

Lovino sat down on a little bench and began talking. It would've definitely seemed strange to anyone watching, but for him it was very therapeutic. He didn't even know if they were listening, up there in Heaven or Paradise or the Underworld or whatever, but he did it anyway.

He went on a long rant about his week, his brothers, that stupid German, and his annoying dance teacher, who had helped manage his chorea since he was a little kid.

Then he was silent for a few minutes, listening to the rain slowly deteriorate. For just a few moments, everything seemed O.K. Naturally, that was when all hell broke loose.

Lovino heard a loud BANG! and shot up, heart pounding in his ears. Then came two more consecutive bangs, along with a whole lot of yelling. Lovino fumbled around his jacket for the pistol he always kept on him in case of emergency. One dreaded word bounced around his head frantically. _Mafia_.

Dropping low, he crept around the graves, heading towards the exit. However, it was just his luck that he was blocked by the group of people currently locked in a gun fight. Lovino tried to count them to see what his odds would be of actually getting out alive.

"Two... Five... Nine... Thirteen... Shit, there's a lot of them!" He exclaimed. "Damn it, this must be more than _one_ mafia!"

Unfortunately for him, someone heard.

"There's another one, over there!" Almost instantly, it seemed all the guns on that side turned their sights onto him. Luckily, it seemed the people they were fighting were ignoring him.

Lovino panted heavily with his back against an angel statue.

'Please, Mom, Dad, God or Jesus or Allah or Buddha or whoever's listening to this, please, please don't let me die!' Lovino thought.

A bullet just barely missed his head, instead ricocheting off of the tip of the angel's wing.

'Guess this is my guardian angel, this time. I'm not gonna last long unless I do something, though.' He took deep breath, prayed one last time, then turned around and began shooting.

Lovino knew he was a good shot, but he had only ever done it before a few times with his grandfather. You could see his surprise when, not only did he hit his targets _every single time_ , but when they fell, they didn't get back up. Strangely, he didn't feel any guilt. _They_ were the ones shooting at _him_ , after all. Besides, it very quickly relieved him of any residing anger about his really, really sucky week.

He zoned out, going on autopilot. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it's not like he could control it. He just aimed, fired, ducked, and repeated as needed. It was over before he'd even run out of ammunition.

Lovino snapped out of it when he realized that the last few people of that particular mafia were running away. He also realized that he had just made enemies of one, maybe even two, mafias in one sitting.

"Well, I'm dead." He muttered, watching the other side stand up, weary but successful, and begin to meander in the other direction.

Lovino heard a low chuckle come from directly to his right. "Not yet, not necessarily."

He whirled around to find one of the mafia members standing right freaking behind him. He paled and backed into the angel statue, which was now trapping him instead of shielding him.

"Now, don't get scared off yet, I just want to talk. First off, I want to ask a question: What were you doing here?" The man towered over Lovino, intimidating yet oddly calming, like they were good friends just having a nice chat.

"I- I was visiting my parents' grave." He answered cursing himself for stuttering. From what he'd heard, no mafia liked cowards, no-sir.

The man nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Would you mind telling me your name?" He said it in a way that clearly meant, 'You better tell me your name if you want to live another day.'

"Lovino Romano Vargas." He responded, sounding a touch more confident now.

"Ah, yes." He snapped his fingers in recognition. "Carriedo's boy."

Lovino blinked. What? He only knew one person named 'Carriedo', and that was his dance teacher, Antonio.

"Oh, but you wouldn't know about that, of course." The man waved it off as if that topic was unimportant. "Now, I have an offer to make you. I will let you know this is one-time only, but you don't get any returns on this product." He said playfully, teasing Lovino right into where he wanted him.

"Product? What product?" He asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Mafia membership." Lovino froze. What?

"You're an amazing shot; you're gifted, really. We could use someone like you among our men. And who knows, you might just rise up the ranks; I know personally they come with good benefits. But it's your choice."

Lovino stared. He had so many questions. Why him? Why now? What would happen if he said yes? What would happen if he said no? What about his brothers?

"I'll give you some time to think about it. If you decide you want to say yes, or have any deciding-factor questions, come to the docks tomorrow night at 10:00. I'll send someone over. We expect you to be early, but expect _us_ to be late." Then he walked off, just like that.

Once everyone was out of sight, Lovino let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Honestly, what just happened?

Lovino contemplated the man's proposition, still not having moved from his spot by the angel statue. 'If I go, I'll be a wanted felon for sure. I'll almost surely commit several crimes, and hurt people who've never hurt me. Besides, what would Feliciano and Romeo think? What would Mamma and Papà think?'

Then he thought about the gun fight. He thought about the rush of adrenaline he'd felt, and the feeling of pride he'd felt as he hit his mark exactly time and time again. And lastly, he remembered The Zone, where for once in his life, he'd felt _powerful_. Never before had _he_ been the one with the most control over, well, anything really, but especially other people.

And he _loved_ it.

 **Omake**

'Guess this is my guardian angel, this time. I'm not gonna last long unless I do something, though.' He took deep breath, prayed one last time, then turned around and did the first thing that came to mind.

"OW!" Someone exclaimed.

"...Was that a tomato?" Someone else said.

"Yeah, someone just threw a flipping tomato at my head!" The first guy answered.

One of the people on the opposing side threw a sandwich, which hit the second guy on his head.

"Oh, this means war!" Guy #2 said, standing and throwing a half-eaten muffin at the other side.

"FOOD FIGHT!" Guy #1 screamed. Everyone joined in, and soon various assortments of untouched, half-eaten, and almost finished snacks were being lodged across the battlefield.

It was only due to Lovino's limitless amount of tomatoes that he was able to make it out alive.


End file.
